1. In which I complete the Daniel Fast
While it is easier to dull any discomfort I feel with media, or food, or a variety of other distractions, I’m not doing myself any favours by doing so.
People need to be uncomfortable. We need to do hard things. We need to push ourselves, to be challenged. In a world of convenience, with information and connection available any second we desire (though, are we really more wise or less lonely?), it takes more and more effort to turn the other way and say, I’m not going to take the easy way out of my own life.
What I have found myself doing is romanticising the struggle; that is, to downplay hard work and what it takes to make or reach something worthwhile. But I recognise when I do this, when I choose to watch youtube instead of working on my novel, I’m actually cheapening what my own life is worth. To avoid the hard things, to dull what is uncomfortable, is to look back on the year and not know where the time went.
My own discomfort isn’t a waiting room while the rest of my life shapes up. It just is.
2. In which I walk by the water every other evening
You know when someone points out a dolphin when you’re looking out at the ocean and you think they imagined it just because you don’t see it right away? But if you stay still for a few minutes and let your eyes sink into the water you’ll see the flip of a tail?
Life is like that. It’s not all immediate and sudden. It’s slow and at times agonising and no one really likes waiting, but at some point you have to get good at it. Because if you don’t get good at it, you’ll check your screen time at the end of the year and realise that all those “five minutes” of scrolling are months of time and you can’t remember the ducklings that crossed the road, or what the sunflowers looked like before they bloomed, or what it felt like when the rain ended. You’ll joke about how quickly the time passes but you don’t even remember what you had for dinner last night.
3. In which I clean the house
Life feels important when I buy myself flowers, do the dishes, and wake up early. I’ve never been to France, or published a novel, or gotten married, but the small things fill these walls with contentment and peace and they help me push past the bitterness of things not turning out the way I thought they would.
People at work talk about booking holidays, but what I really want is to walk around in my own life, not escape it. What I’m really asking for isn’t a break, it’s to fully experience what I’m already doing.
Before the long weekend, someone asked me if I had plans. My gut reaction was to say no, I’m boring, but then they told me to keep talking and there was the truth – organising the linen cupboard, replanting my fiddle leaf fig.
The fact I began that sentence by confessing to having a boring life only shows that I am a contributor to the problem – downplaying the contentment that comes from caring about the small things, because they really aren’t that small. In a world that craves each new shiny toy that comes along, what a joy it is to tend to the same plant week after week and watch it grow.
4. In which I go to bed on time
Two attitudes: seek the Lord and long for eternity, and focus on each day and live that day well.
On the days when living that day well is difficult, remind myself that God hears us through closed windows and disappointed hearts.
5. In which I write something
Today the writing is tangible – a few cups of tea, a large cardigan, a thought or two in my head (I don’t always).
I never thought I could be someone who was in a routine of walking, yet the arrival of spring helped it along quite naturally, and now I can’t imagine not heading for the beach after work. I know that I simply need to think the same for writing – when it isn’t happening, it’s so easy to justify why not. I’m tired. I’m busy. I have nothing to say.
But then I think about how it feels to be on the other side of the difficult thing. How it feels to piece my writing together like a puzzle instead of acting like I don’t have something to add to the conversation.
One is easier but the other takes you further.
Sarah xx
P.S. I’m in the midst of making a Substack – undecided whether or not the content will match my blog, or whether my blog will soon be an archive zone. Leave it with me and I’ll keep you posted.
the softest words 